


All I Can Think About

by sg_wonderland



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-29 21:32:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11449464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sg_wonderland/pseuds/sg_wonderland
Summary: Jack and Daniel have a night out.





	All I Can Think About

**Author's Note:**

> It seems I missed Daniel Jackson's birthday yesterday. So I dug up this little story and offer it as a mea culpa....

Tuxedo waiters, black tie  
white table clothes and red wine,  
we've been planning, this night,  
looking forward to it, for some time  
now honey I know you love getting dressed up,  
and you know I love showing you off,  
but watching your baby blue eyes, dancing in the candle light glow,  
all I can think about, is getting you home,

Walking through the front door, seeing your black dress hit the floor, uh honey there sure ain't nothing, like you loving  
me all night long, and all I can think about is getting you home,

I don't need this menu, no I don't,  
I already know just what I want,  
did I hear you right, did you tell me,  
go pay the waiter and lets leave,  
now honey I know by that look in your eyes,  
and your hand drawing hearts on mine, that our night out of the house, ain't gonna last too long,  
when all you can think about, is getting me home,

Walking through the front door, seeing your black dress hit the floor, uh honey there sure ain't nothing like you loving me  
all night long,  
and all I can think about, all I can think about,  
all I can think about, is getting you home. - Chris Young, Kent Blazy and Cory Batten.

 

I could get arrested – literally – for what is going through my mind right now. I pretend to sip champagne, which I hate, and watch Daniel peruse the menu. The elegant DC restaurant is the perfect setting for Daniel, his shirt blazingly white against the severely black suit, elegant platinum tie bar with a tasteful wink of diamond. 

He’s gorgeous. Breathtakingly beautiful and completely clueless about how much attention we’re drawing tonight. I’m not crazy enough to think anyone’s looking at me. Yeah, my suit’s new and it’s nice but I’m just the also-ran at this table.

Daniel smiles sweetly at the waiter, who fumbles his pencil before recovering to write down our order, which Daniel just voiced in perfect French. If we have time when he is in town, we try to eat here because even though the chef is actually French, he can actually cook stuff normal people would eat and the guy makes a point of coming out to have a conversation with customer he likes. In French. Which I cannot understand but I don’t really care. It’s worth it because the guy likes Daniel and he makes sure that everything is perfect.

Which is why I wanted to come here tonight. I’m kind of showing Daniel off. I know lots of folks think all the ‘beautiful people’ are in California but those folks haven’t spent much time in DC. If you’re gonna make it here, you have to be smart but you also have to be photogenic.

And no one is more photogenic than Daniel. His smile always seems brighter and his eyes just pop on television. 

“Jack.” His quiet voice brings me back to the restaurant. “Are you okay?”

I give him a smile, pick up my wine glass to bump his lightly. “Just fine, Daniel. Just thinking.”

“Got a lot on your mind, do you?” His sideways glance is devilish as his hand, under the cover of the delicate linen tablecloth, skitters over mine. I turn my hand so that our palms meet.

“You have no idea,” I tell him. I always gets a booth here so we can sit together rather than on opposite sides of a table. Another advantage of being in DC is that no one thinks twice about two men seated closely at a table. This is a city, after all, that runs on secrets and whispers and innuendo.

Our appetizer arrives so we scoot apart and dig in. I don’t really know what he ordered but it is something mushroom-y and it’s delicious. 

Daniel has a knack for discovering great restaurants. The original SG-1 was here a few years ago and even Carter, who used to live in DC, admitted that she was leaving all of our dining choices up to Daniel after he took us to a very upscale and decadently delicious burger joint. I like to tell him his budget finally caught up with his taste.

My entrée is fish and is tender and flaky and actually tastes like fish. The chef knows you shouldn’t have to cover a well-cooked piece of fish with a ton of sauce. Daniel has lamb and before I can even ask, he cuts off a piece and slips it onto my plate.

We eat and talk about the kinds of things we actually can talk about in public. Which really isn’t much. The real conversation will come later, when we get home.

Daniel sighs and gives up on his dinner, sliding the rest of his lamb onto my plate. I frown at how much is left. “I’m okay,” he reassures before I can ask. “Just not very hungry.”

I finish eating while he sips wine and people watches. Then I feel his hand on my knee and I smile to myself as I realize he is drawing hearts on my thigh. Hearts with initials inside them. I catch the waiter’s eye, ask him to box up our desserts to go. He doesn’t turn a hair, just takes the credit card I fork over and glides away to take a chunk out of my account.

“We don’t have to leave early on my account, Jack.” I catch his hand under the guise of the tablecloth and draw a couple of hearts of my own. His face flushes and he smiles back at me. “Okay, maybe we do.”

*

Fifteen minutes later, we’re heading home. Daniel sits quietly in his seat, his hand resting lightly on my hand as I shift gears. Something jazzy is playing on the radio and I hum softly as I drive home carefully and competently. 

I really lucked into this townhouse in Georgetown, I think as I pull into the garage. Somebody got caught with their hand in the cookie jar and needed lots of cash very quickly. Short sales are risky but I was also in a bit of a bind so I crossed my fingers and bid on it. So here I am in a nice townhouse, not one of the swankier ones, but it’ll do for my purposes. More importantly, it comes with three bedrooms so no one thinks a thing of Daniel bunking here with me and saving Uncle Sam the cost of a hotel room.

I pop the trunk and grab Daniel’s bag before he can protest. I unlock the door and follow Daniel into the kitchen, turning to lock the door and reset the alarm.

As soon as I drop the bag, I drag him into my arms, kissing him ferociously. “God, I’ve missed you.” I mutter as I eat him alive, my hands cupping his head, his hands on my waist. “All through dinner,” I tell him in short, staccato bursts between bruising kisses, “all I could think about was getting you home.”

“It’s good to be home,” he sighs into my mouth before taking my hand and leading me to the bedroom, forcefully shutting out the world as he closes the door behind us.


End file.
